


hard mode

by thesez



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst?, Blatant lies, Gen, video game metaphors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 07:40:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13313565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesez/pseuds/thesez
Summary: kokichi likes to make things difficult. if things are too easy, it's just not interesting.





	hard mode

kokichi likes to make things difficult. if things are too easy, it's just not interesting. and that's why, if nothing is stimulating enough, he lends a helping hand. an iron fist, that grasps and tosses into disarray. he doesn't want it to be so painless. he doesn't want anything to be so utterly, utterly boring.

because he needs more than that, he decides. and he says it over and over, until it's an unquestionable, detestable truth. that's what he needs it to be. he wants it to be worse. and of all the things he could say, when he says it like he means it, somehow, everyone else believes it too.

nothing is hard enough for his liking. a game with no bite to it, no teeth, no edge, no sword to fall on isn't worth playing at all. he needs intensity. something that needles and something that suffocates. something sharp enough to puncture and seep, something heavy enough to crush the malaise down, til it's gone.

he wrests the controller away. it's his now. 

some settings need tweaks. he cranks the gamma up until he can't see. until it sears and bleaches and cleanses. so light, and bright, and cheery. he prefers it. it envelops him, and when it burns, like staring into the sun, only then does it start to satisfy. his skin is thick enough to take it, but his patience is paper-thin. it curls in and smoulders.

he learns the levels like the back of his hand, prying every polygon apart so he can put it all back together how it should be. he never checks the map, because he knows where he needs to go, and what he needs to do to get there. they're in hell, and the only way out of hell is through it. as deep in as you can get, until you hit the other side. you can make it if you're lucky. or if you're smart. if you're good.

this game has no cheat codes - a tactical omission. a relief. no cheap solutions, no magic safewords to make everything solvable and weightless and pointless again. and even if he had them, it wouldn't matter. yes, no. stop, go. sorry. please. help me. i can do this. it'll work. no i can't, and no it won't. in the forked tongue he speaks, it all sounds much the same.

his mental inventory is filled to the brim. he lets the weight of all he carries twist his arm. there's so much of it, so much responsibility, enough to break his back. no matter what, it won't make him collapse. it can't. and he likes the pain of it. it's not frightening, it's fun. it's all so much fun.

running. pausing. resetting. quitting. one by one these mechanics grow less and less compelling. no matter how much he considers them, in the face of what he's staring down, they are sour and unpalatable. he appreciates the options, but he will never ever take any. he doesn't need crutches. he can't stand them. he discards them.

it's calculated thoroughly. risk vs reward. the higher the risk, the more rewarding it is. so what if it means he's let safety fall by the wayside? so what if he's shed more than a little sanity in the process, too? so what if, under these circumstances, consent is immaterial? all concepts that he can't prove exist for the life of him. he can't walk back from this, can't do it over. they're gone. and how could they possibly be missed, he reasons, if they're nowhere to be found to begin with?

by now, he's bored of hinting, cajoling, leading by the nose. sometimes it gets tiring, leading. you can lead a horse to water, he thinks, but you can't make it drink. all you can do is hold its head under and see if it gulps, or just struggles. hold on, white-knuckled, and see if you can make it stay there. see how far it goes, and how long it lasts.

so far, it has. but he knows. it won't, forever.


End file.
